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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29719551">We Daren't Go A'Hunting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrianDCate/pseuds/OrianDCate'>OrianDCate</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Hogan's Heroes (TV 1965)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crossover, Crossovers &amp; Fandom Fusions, D-Day, Gen, Market Garden, Nimrod - Freeform, Post-Narnia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:48:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,629</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29719551</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrianDCate/pseuds/OrianDCate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Susan Pevensie, SOE Agent, has had many assignments during the course of the War. But none so daring as the night she went Down the Rabbit Hole...and ended up in a POW camp. The Pevensie way, of course.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>We Daren't Go A'Hunting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/gifts">rthstewart</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/122870">The Stone Gryphon, Part 1, Oxfordshire 1942</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/pseuds/rthstewart">rthstewart</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, I'm re-reading rthstewart's "The Stone Gryphon" for the umpteenth time. And I just now realized it was a damn shame Susan Pevensie got the chance to meet the Rat Patrol, but not the most infamous band of POW's in military history (well, maybe second most. You know what, third. Definitely third). So, here I give to you, the Gentle Queen amongst Hogan's Heroes!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“Up the airy mountain,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Down the rushy glen;</em>
</p><p>
  <em>We daren’t go a’hunting</em>
</p><p>
  <em>For fear of little men.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wee folk, good folk, trooping all together;</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Green jacket, red cap,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And white owl’s feather!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>-  William Allingham, “The Faeries”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p>It was a stump.</p><p>A hollowed out, dry-rotten, worm-eaten stump. In the middle of a German forest.</p><p>And they expected her to drop through it.</p><p>Her mind flashed back to the good Sir J. M. Barrie, and his infamous protagonist’s hideaway of choice:</p><p>
  <em>One of the first things Peter did next day was to measure Wendy and John and Michael for hollow trees. Hook, you remember, had sneered at the boys for thinking they needed a tree apiece, but this was ignorance, for unless your tree fitted you it was difficult to go up and down, and no two of the boys were quite the same size. Once you fitted, you drew in [let out] your breath at the top, and down you went at exactly the right speed, while to ascend you drew in and let out alternately, and so wriggled up. Of course, when you have mastered the action you are able to do these things without thinking of them, and nothing can be more graceful.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But you simply must fit, and Peter measures you for your tree as carefully as for a suit of clothes: the only difference being that the clothes are made to fit you, while you have to be made to fit the tree. Usually it is done quite easily, as by your wearing too many garments or too few, but if you are bumpy in awkward places or the only available tree is an odd shape, Peter does some things to you, and after that you fit. Once you fit, great care must be taken to go on fitting, and this, as Wendy was to discover to her delight, keeps a whole family in perfect condition.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wendy and Michael fitted their trees at the first try, but John had to be altered a little.</em>
</p><p>In all her trips Down the Rabbit Hole, she had very often found herself altered on the other end of the trip. If this time the altering came in the middle of the story, it would be a first.</p><p>A giggle made its escape as the possibility of discovering first-hand whether three inches was such a dreadful height crossed her mind.  </p><p>“Something wrong, ma’am?”</p><p>She glanced up at the Sergeant (Carter, she thought was his name), and shook her head. “Merely wondering whether we will find Wonderland waiting for us on the other side.”</p><p>“Oh no ma’am,” laughed the Sergeant. “For one, there’s so many tunnels down there, we’ve got practically no room left to fit another one, much less a whole Wonderland.  For another…”</p><p>“Car-<em>ter!”</em></p><p>The Corporal’s voice cracked behind her (Newkirk, the Corporal’s name was Newkirk). “If loose lips sunk ships, you’d be responsible for the whole bloody Atlantic Fleet. Now get a move on!”</p><p>“Right, sorry.” The Sergeant gestured once more to the stump. “Ladies first.”</p><p>With a long-suffering sigh, she swung her legs over the edge, caught the first rung of the ladder, and began climbing down. Suffice to say that when Colonel Smythe first handed her this assignment, this was <em>not </em>what she’d been expecting.</p><p>Then again, what exactly was one supposed to expect from a group of underground sabatouers who operated out of a POW camp?</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>She dropped the last few inches into the tunnel, then held up her hands. “Alright Baker, you can drop it now.”</p><p>A rather large, brown rucksack came plummeting down the hole, and then jerked to a stop as her arms arrested its downward flight. Back over her shoulders it went, and after a cursory adjustment of straps and coat, it was back to the hole to help her jump-partner down the ladder.</p><p>Sergeant Baker was a very considerate man; but just a tad bit too chivalrous. He’d fought tooth and nail the entire plane ride to be the one to make the jump with the rucksack, but once Susan had pointedly reminded him they absolutely could not risk their precious cargo <em>and </em>new pianist on the same drop, he had (reluctantly) surrendered. His chivalry made another appearance as he moved to provide assistance for the men crawling down after him, in much the same way she had seconds earlier. Albeit with a less gentle nature.</p><p>Carter came next, and finally, bringing up the rear, Newkirk. “All clear, sir.”</p><p>“Right.” Came the authrotative response from behind her. “Would you mind introducing us to our new house-guests?”</p><p>She immediately pivoted, came to attention and saluted. She was pleased to note Sergeant Baker did the same. “Agent Phyllis Dubois and Sergeant Baker reporting for duty, Colonel Hogan.”</p><p>The salute that came in return was lackadaisical in nature, but no less respectful. “At ease. Tell me, how are things up in the old airy mountain?”</p><p><em>The pass-phrase. </em>“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, sir; we’ve just come from down the rushy glen.”</p><p>The Colonel raised a single eyebrow. “The rushy glen? You must’ve had good hunting, then.”</p><p>“I’m afraid not, sir; the little men had everyone afraid.”</p><p>“Hmm. You’d be White Owl, then?”</p><p>“Only if you’re the Red Cap.”</p><p>The Colonel sighed, and leaned back against a table (a table! In a tunnel!). “Tebbit’s never gonna let me live that down, is he?”</p><p>She smirked. “I’m quite sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Colonel. Our papers, for your inspection.”</p><p>The proffered documents changed hands, and then were held up to the light. “Good…very good.”</p><p>Sergeant Carter poked his head over the Colonel’s shoulder. “The real deal, sir?”</p><p>“On the contrary, Andrew my boy; they’re fakes. Authentic, genuine, SOE-issued phonies. The best shoes in the business.” Once again, the papers changed hands. “My compliments to the BSC Cobbler.”</p><p>“Thank you, Colonel.”</p><p>“Which begs the question…just <em>why </em>would the SOE spring for the champagne and caviar, so to speak, for a Sergeant’s ID in the <em>American </em>Air Force?”</p><p>“Because, Colonel Hogan, that is Sergeant Baker’s cover.”</p><p>“…I don’t follow.”</p><p>“That is because I have not started at the beginning. Sergeant Baker, if you would assist me…”</p><p>Off came the rucksack; and very gently, she and the good Sergeant removed the canvas’ delicate cargo and placed it upon the table.</p><p>The Colonel, Newkirk, and Carter all crowded around to look. It was the last who spoke first: “What is it?”</p><p>“That, Sergeant Carter, is something I cannot discuss without your radio operator present. Tell me, where is Sergeant Kinchloe?”</p><p>“Helping our chef keep the guard occupied with a little apple strudel; Carter, go swap with him.”</p><p>“Right away, colonel.”</p><p>“Now,” the Colonel pushed his cap back on his head. “What <em>can </em>you tell me without Kinch here?”</p><p>She and Baker shared a look, and then a slight nod. This was Baker’s story; for the moment, anyway. He could do the explaining. “You and your men have done good work here, Colonel; smuggling out POW’s, blowing up bridges, cutting rail and phone lines. But lately, you’ve been having a quite a few problems sending wireless transmissions out, isn’t that correct?”</p><p>“Yeah; yeah, that’s right.”</p><p>“The Gestapo, wireless tracking trucks, shortwave-jamming, and so on?”</p><p>Newkirk nodded. “More and more, it seems.”</p><p>“There’s a reason for that: the front’s getting closer. What resources Hitler had left are being squeezed into smaller and smaller spaces; hence the uptick in security.”</p><p>A thumping set of footsteps heralded the arrival of the main focus of their mission: Sergeant Ivan Kinchloe. “Carter says you wanna see me, Colonel?”</p><p>“Yeah Kinch; apparently, London thinks you’re important enough to ask for by name.”</p><p>“Bout time they wised up. And can I assume that the two new faces I’m looking at have something good for me?”</p><p>She smiled. “Oh, you had better believe it, Sergeant Kinchloe. Baker; continue, if you please.”</p><p>“Right. Now, here’s where it gets complicated. Pretty soon, the 107<sup>th</sup> is gonna be deployed nearby, and start bombing targets from Hammelburg to Dusseldorf.”</p><p>Kinchloe perked up at that. “The 107<sup>th</sup>? That’s my old outfit!”</p><p>“So it is; and because we’re going to start concentrating on this area in particular, its’ absolutely <em>essential </em>to have good intel coming in. Which means your shortwave set is getting an upgrade, Colonel. This little beauty,” Baker ran his hand over the polished metal, “Is a piggy-backer.”</p><p>The Colonel did a double-take. “I’m sorry, a what now?”</p><p>“A piggy-backer,” repeated the Sergeant. “How it works is pretty simple; your commandant has a field radio in his office, correct?”</p><p>Everyone else nodded.</p><p>“Excellent; now, here’s how that helps us. All we have to do is simply plug in this baby, and every time your Colonel Klink hits the transmit switch, layered behind his broadcast will be a boosted, high-frequency message of our own. This message will be pre-recorded, and then played at a much greater speed on a loop whenever the radio transmits. Our boys at the 107<sup>th</sup>’s HQ can then pick up the message, record it on their end, slow it back down, and decode it. It’s a slower method, to be sure, but much safer.”</p><p>Colonel Hogan raised a finger. “One point; what happens when we want to change the message?”</p><p>“Then you just simply re-record over the disc.”</p><p>“Gotcha. Well, if that’s it…”</p><p>“I’m afraid there’s more, Colonel.”</p><p>“…And the way you just said that has not lifted my hopes for the future.”</p><p>“Trust me, it wasn’t meant to. Miss Dubois?”</p><p>She stepped forward. “Thank you, Sergeant. What we have here is just the first new layer of security the SOE and OSS are adding here; while the Goldilocks code has served you well for quite a few years now, I’m afraid the Germans may very well have cracked it. To address the issue, your regular wireless broadcasts have been assigned a new encoding. It’s an American invention, called Navajo code-talking. It’s been deployed with great success in the South Pacific, and we thought it might serve you well here.”</p><p>Kinchloe rubbed the back of his head. “A new code? That’s gonna take a while to learn.”</p><p>“To learn it requires no less than a two-month course, Sergeant Kinchloe. Which is why Sergeant Baker here has now been permanently assigned to Stalag 13, effective immediately.”</p><p>Colonel Hogan frowned. “An extra prisoner? That’s gonna be hard to hide for a whole two months.”</p><p>“On the contrary, Colonel. The number of prisoners at Stalag 13 will not fluctuate in the slightest. Sergeant Kinchloe?”</p><p>“Yes ma’am?”</p><p>“Congratulations on your promotion. I imagine the Second Lieutenant’s commission will come through once you make it to back to Allied-controlled territory.”</p><p>The room went dead silent.</p><p>“You’re…you mean I’m…I’m being <em>replaced?”</em></p><p>“Not quite, Lieutenant. You’re being moved up the chain of command; with the 107<sup>th</sup> being the outfit assigned to the area, they need someone who can not only handle the outgoing radio traffic from Stalag 13, but also physically directing the bomber crews while in the air. Someone they can trust, someone who knows the area well. Nimrod has already arranged for your prisoner-transfer papers to be delivered to Colonel Klink’s desk. The Germans already know the 107<sup>th</sup> is moving in; it makes perfect sense for them to interrogate an NCO who belongs to the group. You will be rescued during your transfer to Stalag 16, and then smuggled through enemy lines directly back to your old comrades, where you will take up the designation 'Green Jacket'. Sergeant Baker here will report directly to you while the piggy-backer is being installed; once he’s learned everything about the operation that you deem essential, he will be ‘captured’ by the Germans, brought here, and begin broadcasting in your place, under the call sign 'White Owl'.”</p><p>Kinchloe crossed his arms. “And supposing I don’t want to go? Suppose Sergeant Baker here, not meaning any disrespect, never learns everything I deem ‘essential’?”</p><p>“Then I’m afraid I’m fully authorized to, quote, ‘cosh you over the head with a lead pipe and drag you back myself’.”</p><p>Hogan chuckled, and then sighed.  “Orders sound pretty clear to me, Kinch. Sorry.”</p><p>The tension bled out of Kinch’s posture. “Yeah; it’s a tough break. But I’ll do it.”</p><p>She smiled. “Good man.”</p><p>A steaming mug of coffee mysteriously appeared in the Colonel’s hand; she graciously accepted the gift, and began sipping slowly.</p><p>“So tell me, Miss Dubois,” the Colonel asked in-between drinks from an identical mug, “Sergeant Baker’s story seems pretty straightforward. What I fail to see is where you come into all this.”</p><p>“That, I’m afraid, is a much more complicated tale to tell.”</p><p>“Well by all means, let’s hear it. By my reckoning Carter and LeBeau still have about half a strudel to get through, which should give us an extra thirty minutes before roll call. So put up your boots and fire away. At your convenience, of course.”</p><p>“But of course. The first reason for my presence here is one of appearances: one person parachuting into Germany is a drop-off. Two or more, however, means something far more serious in the minds of the Nazi’s: a raid. If but one man were to jump into Germany, and a week later a transport truck be sabotaged, it would seem to the Germans that the underground received some necessary item with which to do the job. They would then begin hunting you and your men even more ferociously.”</p><p>“Whereas with two men,” the Colonel extrapolated, “The Germans are much more likely to believe they were commandos; acting alone to retrieve the prisoner. They’ll move their attention to the front-lines, assuming they’re gonna make their way overland back to the Allies.”</p><p>“Correct. More security directed outwards, and less inwards. My second reason somewhat follows from this: all those listening vans, patrolling up and down this sector, are going to be far less guarded than they normally would while the hunt for the commandos is on. Which leaves a perfect opening to deal with as many as possible before the Germans regain their footing.”</p><p>The Colonel’s eyebrow went up once again. “And just how do you propose to pull a vanishing act in front of the entire Gestapo once they realize their commandos are still in the area?”</p><p>“Among other skills, Colonel, I am a very talented pianist. And I am more than familiar enough with the Goldilocks code to arrange for a fake broadcast in one location, while I myself make my exit stage right. Provided you keep to the secondary transmitting system while the heat is on, the Germans should mistakenly deduce that they have irradicated the sabotage in this area once the Goldilocks code is no longer going out. All of which, when added together, means you and your men will have free reign once the Eight Army begins marching through behind the 107<sup>th</sup>’s barrage.”</p><p>Now both of the eyebrows had gone up. “Patton? Coming through here?”</p><p>She nodded. “And very soon. Lieutenant Kinch’s familiarity with the area will be unimaginably helpful, but up-to-date reports on troop movements will also be necessary. Which is the third reason for my being here. If I can lead the Germans where I want them with a trail of burning vans, I can ensure that they are exactly where they should be when our Shermans begin rolling in.”</p><p>“…Now <em>that, </em>is what I call a plan, Miss Dubois. My congratulations to your superiors.”</p><p>“I shall be pleased to relay them, Colonel Hogan. Now, coffee is all well and good, but if it’s not too much to ask…is there any chance some of that strudel has survived its encounter with the enemy?”</p><p>Colonel Hogan threw back his head and laughed.</p>
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